a conversation under the stars
by magma maiden
Summary: Since when did he fall for her, if a shinobi could truly fall for someone after killing their feelings? [ madara/fem!hashi; birthday fic for hashirama ]


**naruto (c) masashi kishimoto; no financial profit taken from this fic**

**birthday fic for hashirama**

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Under the scattered stars, there was no light flickering in Konoha. Except for one dim candle in the Hokage office. He took his usual route to enter, expecting its owner would be asleep on the table as usual, but had his expectation broken instead. The office was empty, save for said candle that he extinguished and a stack of freshly signed reports.

He checked the private apartment, but it was also dark and deserted. After following the traces of familiar chakra, he found himself atop the stone face. The person he'd been looking for was there, reclining on a wooden bench with eyes closed in contentment.

"...Madara?"

"You should pick a better place to sleep, Hashirama."

"I want to see the stars."

"Then open your eyes."

She did, and squinted at him. "...You're real."

Madara scoffed. "As solid as you are."

She entwined her fingers, creating a similar bench beside hers. A silent invitation to join her, which he accepted with thanks.

"I just didn't expect to see you this soon." Hashirama shifted so she lay on her side, facing him. "Maybe in two, three weeks…"

"The team I brought along can continue on their own. They're capable enough to do so." His aching body felt better after he lay down. The late autumn night was pleasant and windless. Now he understood why Hashirama was out at this hour.

Feeling her stare at him, Madara glanced to the side.

"Nothing," she shrugged before he could ask. "I mean… usually you'd see a task you took to its completion, no matter how small it was. This is the first time you delegated your duty to a team—a fledgling team, too."

He took a deep breath before replying, "I just wanted to go back sooner."

"Why?"

If she had been anyone else, Madara would've given them The Look to silence them. But it's Hashirama, who held an invisible power to tempt his tongue into spilling his deepest thoughts.

Now, why?

He traced a constellation with his eyes. She knew he hated sitting idly, not doing anything useful. Even his mandatory breaks between missions were used to study whatever material his hands could grab at the village library. Yet lately, something else had triumphed it over; a desire that could only be quenched when she's within his reach. Just like now.

His limbs were aching, his body needing a rest on a proper bed, but here he was.

Madara glanced, Hashirama blinked at him.

"I don't know."

The answer was met by a hand placed upon his forehead.

"Are you unwell?"

"Healthy as I've ever been."

Hashirama pulled her hand, but her face was still concerned. "You're… not being you."

"I didn't know you prefer me being away."

"No!" She straightened her back. "I'd like you being here more often but if you're happier roaming the wildlands, then…"

"I want to be here," Madara blurted out, which he regretted it immediately because it was followed by a sudden realization: he wanted to be close to her. Even during his latest mission, his thoughts continuously returned to the village. To her.

Warmth crept onto his cheeks.

And Hashirama noticed it.

As Madara desperately looking for a change of topic, she leaned forward to ask, "Do you have something else to say?"

Really, he always thought Hashirama wasn't perceptive at all in matters outside of a battle. Perhaps after months handling village affairs and political clashes had honed it?

In an ironic twist of fate, Madara avoided her eyes. It wasn't until he felt a gentle touch on his finger that he looked at her again.

"Tell me."

He couldn't. Not because he didn't want her to know—yes, he admitted he did want her to know—but because words failed him. He had roused fellow children who got scared before going to war, he had roused his entire clan to face the Senju despite losing heavily back then. Impromptu speeches were never a problem.

Yet his tongue chose to be petrified in the most unfortunate time.

_All or nothing it is._

Madara moved to her side, then pulled her to his embrace. Hashirama made no sound, but soon relaxed and leaned at his body. His heartbeat slowly returned to its regular pace, but his relief was postponed as she spoke.

"Since when?"

When that question was thrown at him, Madara was speechless.

Since when did he fall for her, if a shinobi could truly fall for someone after killing their feelings?

"...I don't know," he finally said, touching the side of her head with his forehead. "Wait, you… you don't mind?"

She pulled away, glancing at his face for a moment before her laughter broke. "Madara!" she exclaimed, wiping tears in her eyes, "you have no idea how much I wanted this."

That took him by surprise. If she had dropped hints before, he would've missed them all. "Since when...?"

A cheeky grin was spreading on her face. "I'll tell you if you tell me first."

"It… didn't happen overnight, that I can say." Madara fixed her haori. "But you should rest now."

"Ah, you're dodging me!" Hashirama protested, but she rose and followed him back to the Hokage building. Before she entered her apartment, she turned around and called, "Madara?"

"Mm?"

"Thank you for telling me," she said before disappearing into her apartment.

He was heading to the stairs when he felt a tug on his shirt. A tiny mokuton hand had tugged him, then gestured to the apartment door. It was ajar, and an eye was peeking at him from the inside.

Madara snorted. Oh, well. His clan didn't expect him to be home tonight anyway.


End file.
